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  _Chap-Books_
  _and_
  _Folk-Lore Tracts._


  _Edited by_
  _G. L. Gomme, F.S.A._
  _and_
  _H. B. Wheatley, F.S.A._


  _First Series._
  =III.=




  MOTHER BUNCH'S CLOSET
  NEWLY BROKE OPEN,

  AND THE

  HISTORY OF MOTHER BUNCH OF
  THE WEST.


  PRINTED FROM
  THE EARLIEST EXTANT COPIES,

  AND EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION,

  BY

  GEORGE LAURENCE GOMME, F.S.A.


  LONDON:
  PRINTED FOR THE VILLON SOCIETY.

  1885.




Introduction.


This chap-book is not a story. It is a collection of charms and dreams
supposed to have been communicated by a personage bearing the name of
Mother Bunch, a name unhistorical and, so far as I have been able to
ascertain, unknown to any other department of literature.

The edition here printed is made up of two distinct parts. The first
part is the oldest, and at one time the only portion extant. This is
reprinted from the copy in the Pepsyian Library at Cambridge, dated
1685. The second part is printed from the copy in the British Museum
library, and dated by the authorities there 1780, this being the
earliest version I have been able to find.

From the wording of its title, “Mother Bunch's Closet _Newly_ Broke
Open,” there is evidence of the first part being a continuation of a
chap-book already issued upon the same subject. For this we must refer
to a jest-book first published in 1604, the title of which runs as
follows: _Pasquil's Jests, mixed with Mother Bunche's Merriments_......
This book is a well-known collection of jests of a rather broad nature,
and its style of composition lent itself to a continuation such as
we have in the chap-book now under consideration. There is no other
connection between the two publications than the title.[1]

The later editions of this chap-book differ considerably from that of
1685 in the Pepsyian Collection. Almost every page varies, and that too
in no inconsiderable manner. It is not perhaps necessary to point out
all the variations because they are not of great literary or historical
interest, but it may be well to indicate the chief differences. The
1685 edition, as here printed, contains two parts. These in later
editions are amalgamated, and the title on page 10, “The second part of
Mother Bunch, who lived at Bonny Ventor in the West,” does not
therefore appear. As a specimen of the later editions, the following is
the opening passages of the 1780 edition, and other pages are similarly
altered:

“Mother Bunch's Cabinet Broke Open.

“Reading over many ancient histories, it was my chance to meet with a
story of an old woman who lived in the west country, who took delight
in studying her fortune; when she found herself full twenty years old,
she thought her luck worse than some who were married at fifteen or
sixteen, which much troubled her mind; but to prevent all doubts she
resolved to try a story she had often heard her mother talk of, and,
finding it true, she resolved to teach other wonders.

“On a time this old woman, having newly buried her husband, was taking
a walk in the fields for the benefit of the air, sometimes thinking of
the loss of her husbands, for she had had three, yet had a great desire
for the fourth. So it happened as she was walking alone she espied a
young maid by a meadow side. Good morrow, maid, said the old woman; how
do you do? are not you well? Yes, mother, I am very well, but somewhat
troubled in mind.”

The paragraph on page 20 is entirely left out in the later editions,
and the following addition is made:

    Now Mother Bunch's store exhaust,
      She sits her down to spin;
    Then studies how she soon may make
      Her Second Part begin.

    Which now is finished and sold
      Where you have had the First,
    'Twill make you wise, also to laugh,
      Untill your sides do burst.

These are all the points of difference which it will be necessary to
note between the 1685 edition, now reprinted, and those that appeared
later in conjunction with the new second part.

The woodcuts in these chap-books are of the rudest description, and
they did not appear worth reproducing. Mr. Ashton, in his _Chap-books
of the Eighteenth Century_, pp. 84–87, has given three woodcuts from
the second part of the 1780 edition, and the following lines, which,
together with the funeral picture, make the finish of the book. These
lines are not printed on our last page:

    Thus all her Art at length could not her save,
    From death's dire stroke, and mould'ring in the grave.

We will now discuss the special importance of Mother Bunch's collection
of dreams and prognostications. It is well known that these subjects
form a not unimportant branch of folk-lore, and it is therefore
interesting to find that through the medium of this seventeenth-century
chap-book we have preserved to us some scraps of folk-lore which are
of value. They for the most part group themselves round certain days
in the calendar, and it will therefore perhaps be best to adopt this
arrangement for our consideration of them. Thus we have St. Agnes' Day
(21 Jan.), Valentine's Day (14 Feb.), 20th April, Midsummer Eve (24
June), St. Luke's Day (Oct. 18), St. Thomas's Day (Dec. 21). Almost all
the customs recorded by Mother Bunch on these days are incorporated by
Sir Henry Ellis in his edition of Brand's _Popular Antiquities_; but
their original value is ascertained by the independent practice of the
self-same customs in many parts of England, as noted by authorities
who did not know Mother Bunch. Take, for instance, St. Agnes' Day.
Ben Jonson, Aubrey in his _Miscellanies_, Burton in his _Anatomy of
Melancholy_, Barnaby Googe, all refer to the self-same customs recorded
in this chap-book. Of course if this rule held good throughout, and in
matters of detail, it might be said that the chap-book was copied from
these earlier authorities. But this can be shown not to be so by one
curious piece of evidence. The Scottish St. Agnes rhyme differs from
that of Mother Bunch. It is as follows:

    Agnes sweet, and Agnes fair,
    Hither, hither, now repair,
    Bonny Agnes let me see
    The lad who is to marry me.

(See _Times Telescope_, 1823, p. 15.) Again, the 20th April is not a
festival day, but in Worcestershire there is a belief in the county
that the cuckoo is never heard till Tenbury Fair day, which is the 20th
April (Dyer's _Popular Customs_, p. 192); a fact which, when compared
to the narrative on page 6, goes far to prove that this Worcestershire
belief was known to the author of Mother Bunch. The unlucky days
mentioned on pages 11 and 32 are curious, and should be compared with
the calendar customs collected in Hampson's _Medii Ævi Kalendarium_.
Of the nature of the customs performed on the various days it will not
be necessary to say much. They are all connected with divination for a
wife or a husband. But they are curious in preserving the rhyming words
of an incantation which may be of considerable archaic importance
if we could arrive, by a comparison of all the extant rhymes on this
subject, at something like the original form. Coupled with this are
two significant customs, namely, the journey to the church-door on
St. Agnes Eve (p. 30), which may be considered with the perambulation
of the church recorded on page 18. These may be compared with the
Derbyshire custom recorded in the _Jour. Arch. Assoc._ vol. vii. p.
209. And the gathering of flowers in a silent grove on Midsummer Eve
(p. 31) should also be noted.

Of customs incidentally mentioned there are divinations connected with
apple (p. 8), cakes (18), cuckoo (20), flowers (19), hemp-seed (18),
lemon (30), new moon (19), nuts (30), peascod (29). Horn Fair day is
mentioned on p. 24. On page 16 in the rhymes there given the game of
tick-tack is mentioned. This is a game at tables similar to backgammon,
and is sometimes called trick-track. Mr. Wheatley, in his _Dictionary
of Reduplicated Words_, has collected the instances of its mention in
the early writers.

The following are the proverbs:—

(1) An ill bird befoules it own nest (6).

(2) Kiss and tell is base play (6).

(3) If you will not when you may, when you will you shall have nay (13).

(4) Look before you leap (13) (see _Paradise of Daynty Deuyses_, 1578;
Tottel's _Miscellany_, 1557).

(5) A slut will poison thy gut (14).

(6) Riches has wings and flyeth away (14).

(7) Ill words corrupt good manners (15).

(8) [Old maids] lead apes in hell (18) (see _Much Ado about Nothing_,
act ii. sc. 1.)

(9) She that's afraid of the grass must never —— in the meadow (26).

(10) One swallow never makes a summer, nor one woodcock a winter (26)
(see Polyd. Virg. _Prov. Libellus_, 1498; Northbrook's _Treatise
against Dauncing_ (1577), Swallow's _Cinthia's Revenge_, 1613; Arist.
Ethic. Nicom. lib. i.)

(11) Set thy stool in the sun, if a knave goes, an honest man may come
(27).

(12) He would have played a lesson on my lute (27).

Only four of these are recorded in Hazlitt, namely, numbers 4, 6, 8,
and 10.

[Footnote 1: _Pasquil's Jests_ will be reprinted in one of the series
of the present collection. Hazlitt's _Handbook to Popular Literature_
says there are editions in 1604, 1609, 1629, 1635, 1650 and 1669. Mr.
Hazlitt has reprinted it in the third series of his _Old English Jest
Books_, 1864.]

[Illustration]




MOTHER BUNCH'S CLOSET NEWLY BROKE OPEN.


    _Wherein is discovered many rare Secrets of
    Art & Nature;
    tryed and experienced by learned Phylosophers,
    and recommended to all ingenious
    young men and maids,
    Teaching young men (in a natural way) how
    to get good wifes & maids good husbands,
    Experimented by ancient authors as, viz. The
    manner of St. Agnes Fast, the 21st of January
    The washing the Smock on Midsummer eve
    The soweing of Hemp-seed. The Dutch Cake.
    Teaching them how in sleep and dreams to
    see and know them perfectly._

       *       *       *       *       *

    No Harm at all is in this set,
    But teaching Maids Husbands to get;
    And also young Men of each Degree
    Turn o're the Leaf, and you may see,
    What there is, writ in Merriment
    Hoping to give you all content.

       *       *       *       *       *

  _By your Loving Friend poor Tom for the King a Lover of
  Mirth; but a Hater of Traytors and Treason. T.R._


_Printed by A. M. for P. Brooksby in Py Corner 1685._




[Illustration]




MOTHER BUNCH

OF THE

WEST, ETC.


Reading over many ancient histories, it was my chance to meet with a
story of an old woman who lived in the west county, who took delight in
studying how she might know what a sweetheart she might have, for at
that time she thought she had tarried very long; she being full twenty
years of age, thought (in her mind) that her fortune was not so good as
other maidens, which she knew was married some at fifteen, and some at
sixteen, which troubled her very sore; but to prevent all other doubts,
she was fully resolved to try an old story which she had heard her
Grandmother talk of many a time and did, and finding some of them to be
true she took upon her to teach other maidens, as you may hear in this
following discourse.

Upon a time this old woman (having newly buried her husband and was a
widow) oftentimes delighted to walk abroad in the fields, to take the
ayr, sometimes thinking of the loss of her husbands, for she had had
three, yet she had a great desire to have another, intending to try
her former rules. So it happened as she was walking alone, she espied
a proper young maid in the side of a meadow near a hedge side. Good
morrow, maid, said the old woman, how do you do? Are you not well you
look so civily? Yes, said the maid, I am not sick neither am I very
well, for I am a little troubled in my mind. What is it, said the old
woman, tell me, and if I can do thee any good I shall be very willing,
for I have some little judgment in many things, therefore be not
ashamed to tell me the truth what it is that thou art so much troubled
withall. Indeed, old mother, seeing you urge me so much I shall let
you understand the truth, and thus it is: We be three sisters, and
the youngest was married about a year ago, and the middlemost last
week, and I am the eldest, and no man heeds me. Well, daughter, if
this be all that thou tellest me I do believe I can teach thee how to
ease thyself in this condition, for when I was young I myself was in
the very same condition, and with reading over some histories I found
out the art to know him that should be my husband, and what colour of
hair he should be, which, if thou will promise me to keep my counsel,
I shall be willing to teach thee. I will truly, and if you will do so
much for me I shall think myself very much beholding unto you, and if
my fortune prove right I will make you amends.

Why then I will tell you, in the first place thou must observe St.
Agnes's day, which is upon the 21st day of January, and on that day
thou must be sure to keep a true fast, for thou must not eat anything
all that day nor at night, and be sure that no man salute thee (not
kiss thee I mean), no neither man woman nor child must kiss thy lips
on that day, and then at night before thou go into thy bed, thou must
be sure to put on a clean shift thou hast, and the best thou hast then
the better thou may speed, and when thou lyest down lay thy right hand
under thy head saying these words, _Now the god of love send me my
desires_; and make sure thou as soon as thou can and thou shalt be sure
to dream of him which must be thy husband and see him stand before thee
and thou wilt take great notice of him and his complexion; and if he
offer to salute thee do not deny him but show as much favour unto him
as thou can; but if he offer to be uncivil unto thee make sure to hold
thy legs together. And now, daughter, this counsel which I have given
thee be sure to tell nobody, and so fare you well till I see you again.

I give you many thanks for your good advice, but one thing more I have
to say unto you, What is your name? and where do you live? that I may
come to see you again for I shall think the time long. Why I tell thee,
daughter, my name is Mother Bunch and I live at a place called Bonny
Venter, and if thou wilt but take the pains to come thither thou shalt
be welcome, and so farewell.

Now Mother Bunch being departed from the maid, and going homeward she
meets with another pretty young girl. Good morrow, Mother Bunch. Good
morrow, pretty maid, whither are you going this morning? methinks you
are very fine to-day. Fine, Mother Bunch, you do but think so. Nay I
cannot discommend you; for such young maids as you must go handsome,
or you will have much ado to get good husbands; for I know you think
the time long. No, no, Mother, I am too young yet. Why daughter how
old are you? Why I am but eighteen. But eighteen, never but it for I
know thou think'st thou hast stayed long enough, and would as fain have
a good husband as another. Aye, but Mother Bunch, good husbands are
ill to find out, and especially with such as I am which has no skill
in chusing, or else it may be I would fain have a husband as another.
Why then daughter take my advice: if thou would have a good husband
thou must be sure to be wise in chusing, that is to say take not one
that hath a red head; for to be sure he will be one to love the smock
so well, that he will be loth to let his wife have a good one to her
back; neither take one that has yellow hair, for he will be apt to be
jealous; no nor a black man, for they oft prove dogged. Ay, but hark
you Mother Bunch if I must have neither red nor yellow nor black, what
colour must I have then? It may be I have set my love on a yellow haird
man already—Why, daughter, if it be so I can [tell] thee what will
follow: if he prove jealous of thee thou wilt be driven into such a
condition with his speeches that thou may very well make his words
good, for how should a woman forbear that which she is always told of?
for to be sure if he be jealous of thee, thou hast cause to be jealous
of him, for there is no man or woman that is jealous the one of the
other but they are false themselves, for whores and thieves think all
is alike. But hold a little, daughter, one thing more I have to say
unto thee, and that is this. Take notice of thy sweethearts, when they
come a wooing unto thee (I mean of their civil behaviour), for if they
swear, and bow, and make great protestations, then have a care of
thyself, for many words breed dissimulation; therefore have a care of
such. But if a man come unto thee that is sparing of his words and very
civil in his carriage, there is hopes he will prove a loving man and
love passeth above all the meanes in the world. Well now Mother Bunch I
must take my leave of you, giving you many thanks for your good advice;
and so farewel, until I see you again, and I do intend to take your
counsel.

Another time Mother Bunch was in a little meadow, not far from her own
house, and it was on the 20th day of April very early in the morning
before sunrising. A handsome young maid seeing her all alone, came unto
her, and said, Mother Bunch, good morrow, how do you do? pray what
makes you abroad so early this morning? I am persuaded you are in a
study. Daughter you say very true; I am studying who must be my next
husband; and if thou but please to stay a little while, thou shalt see
a pretty art, which thou never saw before, for to teach thee to know
thy sweetheart. That is a pretty art indeed, and I should be very glad
to learn that art.

Hark! Hark! daughter, is not yonder the cuckoo singing? Yes, yes, and I
have not heard her sing this year before now. Then, daughter, sit thee
down by me, but hark you daughter, are you fasting? Yes, I have neither
eat nor drank yet. Ay, but hath no young man kist thee to-day? No I
did see no man to-day. Then sit thee down by me. I think the cuckoo is
mad; what a life she leads; I think she is a witch and knows what we're
doing, but no matter; put off thy right foot shoe and stocking, and let
me look between thy great toes. Now, daughter, see, this hair (which is
a good long one); look well at it, and what colour it is (I think it is
partly yellow). The very same colour will thy husband's hair be. But,
Mother Bunch I do not matter the colour so much as I do his condition.
I will tell thee his condition; he may prove surly enough, but thou
must strive to please him as much as you can both night and day for he
will be very apt to go astray, and if he do thou must not much heed him
but give him good words for thou hast very bad luck if thou cannot do
him one good turn for another; but as for that thou must keep that to
thyself; an ill bird befoules its own nest; kiss and tell is base play.
Mother Bunch you make me smile, you talk so merrily. Come, daughter,
'tis no great matter; merry talk does do no harm, but drives the time
away; but as for the deed doing, I leave that to your own discretion.
But hark you! daughter, I have had three husbands myself, and I think
to have another yet, and do you think I am so mad to tell him all
that I do? no I am not so mad and I think thou wilt be a little wiser
and yet daughter, I have another way for to teach thee how thou shalt
come to know who must be thy husband, and I have approved it true; for
I tryed it myself, and now is the best time of the year to try it,
therefore take notice of what I say: Take a St. Thomas onion, and peel
it, and lay it in a clean handkerchief and lay it under your head; and
put on a clean smock, and be sure the room be clean swept where you
lye, and as soon as you be laid down, be sure lay thy arms abroad, and
say these words:

    Good St. Thomas do me right,
    And bring my love to me this night,
    That I may look him in the face,
    And in my arms may him embrace.

Then lying on thy back, with thy arms abroad, fall asleep as soon as
thou can, and in thy first sleep thou shalt dream of him which shall be
thy husband, and he will come and offer to kiss thee, but do not hinder
him, but strive to catch him in thy arms, and if thou do get hold of
him that is he which must be thy husband but if thou get not hold of
him thou must try another night, and if thou do get hold of him hold
him fast, for that is he. This I have try'd, and it has prov'd true.
Yet I have another pretty way for a maid to know her sweetheart, which
is as followeth: Take a summer apple, of the best fruit you can get,
and take three of the best pins you can get, and stick them into the
apple close to the head, and as you stick them in take notice which
of them is in the middle, and what name thou fancies best give that
middle pin and put it into thy left handed glove, and lay it under thy
pillow on a Saturday at night, but thou must be in bed before thou lays
it under thy head, and when thou hast done, clasp thy hands together,
speaking these words:—

    If thou be he that must have me
      To be thy wedded bride,
    Make no delay, but come away,
      This night to my bedside.

And in thy first sleep thou shalt see him come in his shirt and lie
down by thee, and if he offer thee any abuse it will be a great sign he
will prove one that will love other women as well as thee; but if he do
put his hand over thee to imbrace thee be not afraid of him, for it is
a great sign he will prove a good husband; and this is a good way for
a young man to know his sweetheart, giving the middlemost pin the name
he fancies best, putting an apple in his right handed glove, and lay it
under his pillow, when he is in bed, saying,

   If thou be she that must have me
      In wedlock for to join,
    Make no delay but come away
      Unto this bed of mine.

And that night he shall see her come, and if she come in her smock and
petticoat, which is a great sign she will prove a very civil woman;
but if she come without her petticoat there is danger she will prove
a ranter, and therefore better lost than won. And now, daughter, the
time passeth away and I must be gone, and so I bid you farewel. Mother
Bunch, I give you many thanks for your good counsel, and intend to take
your advice, and so fare you well.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




_The Second Part of Mother Bunch who lived at Bonny Venter in the West._


Upon a time Mother Bunch, being bidden to a wedding, where a great
many young men and maids were met together, they knowing she was a
very old woman had a great desire to drink with her and to have some
civil discourse, she coming to them said one young man unto her, Mother
Bunch, we know that you are a woman that hath judgment in many things;
pray will you tell me my fortune? Why dost thou think that I can tell
fortunes, no I can tell no fortunes, but I can tell thee that thou wilt
never be true to one woman thou blinks so much on one eye, therefore
hold down thy tongue. Ay, but Mother Bunch, saith another, what think
you of me. Of thee, why I tell thee thou may come to marry a lady,
if thou can but lay a great wager with her, three to one; and if she
do but lay with thee, thou wilt be very likely to win, for thou hast
mettle in thee; but have a care she win not the odds of thee, for if
she do then thou art clean gone; so farewel.

Now old Mother Bunch takes her leave; and going homeward she meets with
a young maid which was going to the wedding. How do you do, mother?
Thank you, daughter. Whither art a going? To the wedding I believe;
ay, Mother Bunch, so I am; but hark you, mother, will you sit down a
little, I have something to say to you. What is it daughter? Why mother
you can tell many things if you please, and I would have you when you
think I shall be married, ay but daughter would you fain be married?
Yes, mother, if I could but get a good husband. Then, daughter, I will
tell thee the best I can, if thou will take my advice. In the month of
January there are many very dangerous days for thee to take notice of
in many kind of waies, and I will give thee notice of them, that is the
first, the second, the fourth and fifth; there is a great many more,
but in these there is great danger, for if thou think to be married on
any of these daies I say there will be great danger that thy husband
will make thee a cuckold, or thou wilt make him one, or else you will
be soon parted by one means or other; but for all that there be so many
bad daies in this month, yet I can tell of one day in this month which
is lucky, and many young men and maids have a deal of hearts ease on
that day, or the day after, as I shall let thee understand if thou wilt
but take my advice I shall tell thee there is in January a day called
St. Agnes day, it is alwaies the one and twentieth day of the month.
This St. Agnes has a great favour to young men and maids, and will
bring to their bedsides (as that night) their sweethearts, if they
will follow this rule as I shall declare unto thee; therefore take good
notice of what I shall tell thee: Upon this St. Agnes day you must be
sure to keep a true fast, for thou must neither eat nor drink all that
day, nor at night, neither let any man, woman or child kiss thee that
day; and thou must be sure at night when thou goest to bed, to put on
a clean shift, and the best thou hast the better thou maist speed, and
thou must have clean cloaths on thy head, for St. Agnes does love to
see clean clothes when she comes; and when thou liest down on thy bed,
lie thee down on thy back as straight as thou canst, and lay both thy
hands under thy head behind and say these words:—

    Now good St. Agnes play thy part,
      And send to me my own sweetheart;
    And shew me such an happy bliss,
      This night of him to have a kiss.

And then be sure to fall asleep as soon as thou canst and before thou
awake out of thy first sleep, thou shalt see him come and stand before
thee, and thou shalt perceive by his habit what tradesman he is; but
be sure thou declare not thy dream unto any body in ten daies and by
that time thou may come to see thy dream come to pass. All this I have
approved three times; for I have had three husbands, and they proved
all three tradesmen; the first was a straw joiner, the second was a
louse trap maker, and the third was of the gentle craft; and he come
to me with his awl in his hand, and would needs prick me, ay and did
prick me, but it did not hurt me; for when I awaked out of my dream
I was never the worse; but I thought the time very long till he came
again, and so will all maidens do that have a desire to be married,
but as for all those maids which is not minded to try St. Agnes I will
tell thee the best way I can to choose them husbands by phansie, for
I know some maids would have husbands some of one condition and some
of another, for some will say that they will have a handsome man and a
neat man, a witty man and a pretty man, nay there is no good conditions
that belong to a man but they would have him to have them all, which is
a thing impossible, but I must needs tell such as be so covetous that
may come to be beholden to the old proverb which says:—

    If you will not when you may,
    When you will you shall have nay.

Therefore take my advice, and that is, if a young man comes unto you
which is of a civil carriage, and of a good honest parentage, and thou
think that thou canst love him, then thou must not be scornful with
him, but give him civil entertainment, according to his behaviour; but
of all conditions be sure to hold thy legs together, till thou have
authority to lay them wide open.

And as for young men, my advice is to them to be wary in their choice,
for there is as much danger in chusing a wife as can be in young women
chusing husbands, for there is deceit in both; therefore, I advise
all young men to _look before they_ _leap_, and in so doing they may
prevent danger in time, therefore young men take a little of my advice
in your choice; if thou can chuse take not one that hath a long nose
with a scowling brow, and thin lips, for in such is great danger, for
such commodity proves to have a long tongue, and that often proves the
worst weapon a woman has, for I am sure he that is ty'd to a scold,
is ty'd to a world of sorrow; also chuse not one that is counted a
slut, for if she be a slut to be sure she is idle withall, and those
two conditions will bring thee to poverty; nay besides, the old saying
is, _A slut will poison thy gut_, and if thou disdain to eat with her,
thou wilt think much to lie with her, if thou forsake her bed thou must
have one somewhere, but where judge thou thyself. Yet now I will let
you understand my best advice for young men to chuse them wives: in the
first place be sure thou take one for love, not altogether for riches,
for riches has wings and flyeth away; but true love will never decay;
for where love is there is the blessing of God, and where the blessing
of God is there can be no want, but if thy desire be to have a wife to
live a loving contented life withall, then thou must not set thy mind
too much on riches, but chuse a good handsome civil maid, which is not
given to pride, nor scornful in carriage and of uncivil parentage; such
a maid may make a good wife; but one that has a great portion will
look to be maintained proudly, nay besides she instead of rubbing thy
shins in bed will be sure to rub thy nose oft with her great portion,
which will breed a great deal of dissension, for ill words corrupt
good manners, and one evil word brings in another, so let this suffice
you have a desire to have good wives: and take notice of what I have
already said, and you may come to speed the better.

And as for young maids, this is my advice, if they will not try St.
Agnes fortune then let them be sure to chuse a handsome young man
that is lusty and able to do his work; for if she be fain to seek
for another to do that work which he should do it may breed great
dissension.

And thus endeth Mother Bunch's advice to all young men and maids,
wishing good luck and good fortune to them all. And now (rather than
you should think you have not enough for your money) the author has
added two merry songs:

_Tune of “Cuddle my Cuddle.”_

    You young men and batchelors all,
      Take notice of what I shall say;
    The strongest man may catch a fall
      If with Venus he delight to play.

    It is nothing for to woo a maid,
      If he have but to please her withal;
    But yet he may soon be betray'd,
      If she chance backward to fall.

    Young Cupid is a pretty fine boy
      And Venus his mother loves sport
    And gallants doth love for to toy
      With pretty young ladies at the Court.

    The Ploughman loves country Jone,
      Betty, Mary, and lovely Nan;
    And he with a merry tone
      Can please them every one.

    But Jone loves Jarvis the Joiner,
      And Betty with Martin can bill,
    And Mary loves John the gold-finder,
      And Nan loves George of the Mill.

    Tom Tinker loves Kate and her kettle
      And Kate she thinks him her best friend
    Because he's a man of mettle.
      Concluding my ditty doth end.

_Another of the same tune._

    Attend ye gentlemen all,
      And a Story I here will unfold
    A bad story oft proves too true
      For the poor suffers hunger and cold.

    'Twas writ in an evening bright,
      When Bacchus began to be muddy,
    And Luna gave glorious light
      Then Poor Tom fell into his study.

    Which troubled his brain full sore,
      To see how extortion doth thrive
    And conscience kicked out of door,
      Such cruelty now is alive.

    My lady can dance in her smock
      Whilst Joan at tick-tack doth play
    A cuckold the cradle may rock;
      For he that is bound must obey.

    His master if he doth command,
      And his mistress if she do bid go;
    For some women would have all to stand
      Hold, earman, lest you overthrow.

    A woman when she is unlac'd
      Much danger is got by a fall;
    Between the foot and the waist
      The Cobbler will work with his awl.

Now for those poor young creatures that have pined themselves to
the green sickness, and neglected the cure till it is almost past,
those that are the worst pretenders to phisnomy might easily guess
their distemper and prescribe their remedy without the help of a
dispensatory, and all those of what constitution soever, that languish
in single sheets till fifteen; I will tell (if your courage will
serve to try the experiment) how you shall know and see the persons
that shall ease you of the simple thing so much talked of called a
maidenhead, by him that must be your husband, collected from the Twelve
Sybils, Trismajistus, and Cornelius Agrippa, and this is


_The First Way._

You that desire to know it this way must wait till Midsummer Eve, then
at night three or four of you, or more or less, must take your smocks
and dip them in fair water, then turn the wrong side outwards, and hang
them on chairs before the fire, and have by you a vessel with drink in
it and lay some salt in another before the fire, and be sure not to
speak a word whatever you hear or see. In a little time the likeness of
those persons you shall marry will come and turn your smocks, and drink
to you; now if there be any of you that will never marry, they will
hear a bell, but not the rest but whoever hears this bell none of my
authors is positive that she shall dye a maid.


_Another, and quickly tried._

Which is this: you are only to take a little hemp-seed and go into
what place you please by yourself, and carry the seed in your apron,
and with your right hand throw it over your left shoulder, saying thus:

    Hemp-seed I sow, hemp-seed I sow,
    And he that must be my true love,
    Come after me and mow.

And at the ninth time expect to see the figure of him you are to wed,
or else hear a bell, as before.

    Yet though you hear the sad and dismal bell,
    'Tis your fault if you lead apes in hell.


_Another way._

Which is this: you that dare venture yourselves into a church-yard
just as it strikes twelve, take there a naked sword in your hand, and
go nine times about the church, saying only thus, _Here's the sword,
but where's the scabbard?_ Which continue all the time you go round;
and the ninth time the person you are to marry will meet you with a
scabbard, and so kiss you; if not, a bell as before.


_Another, which is called the Dutch Cake._

Three, or four, or more of you are to make a cake of half flour and
half salt (no matter what flour it is) and some of every one of your
own water, make this cake broad and thin, then every one of you either
make a mark that you know or set the two first letters of your name on
it with a pin or bodkin, but leave such a distance that it may be cut;
then set it before the fire to bake, but all this while speak not a
word. Turn it every one of you once, then let it bake a little more and
then throw on every one a little salt and she that turn'd it first let
her turn it again, then the person to be her husband will cut out her
name and break it in two and give her one half, and so the next, and
the next, till the last. If there be any so unfortunate to hear a bell,
I wish I had them to my bedfellows this night to prevent leading apes
in hell.


_Another way._

The first change of the new moon in the new year; the first time you
see, hold your hands across, saying this three times,

    New moon, new moon, I pray thee
    Tell me this night who my true love will be.

Then go to bed without speaking any more that night and you will
certainly dream of the person you are to marry.


_Another, experienced very often._

Young men or maids may do onely this: Take some rosemarry flowers, and
some bay leaves, a little thyme, sweet marjoram, and sidder wood; make
these into powder, and with a little barley flour make a cake, but do
not bake it. Lay this under your head any Friday night, and if you
dream of musick, you will marry those you desire in a little time; if
of the sea or ships, you'll travel first; if of a church, you must be
contented to die single.


_Another._

The first time you hear the cuckoo sing look under your left shoe and
you will find hair of the colour of your wife or husband without the
help of the Devil.

[Illustration]




  THE

  HISTORY

  OF

  MOTHER BUNCH OF THE WESTE

  CONTAINING

  MANY RARITIES OUT OF HER GOLDEN
  CLOSET OF CURIOSITIES.

  _PART THE SECOND._

  _Printed and Sold at the Printing-Office
  Bow Church-Yard, London._




[Illustration]




INTRODUCTION.


One Michaelmas-day old Mother Bunch sitting upon the bank of a river,
joining to a neighbouring grove, she beheld the late flourishing
branches in their decay, whose leaves were falling to the earth. From
this she began to consider seriously of her own mortality; and since
Old Time had hurried on the Winter of her age, which had covered her
head with grey locks, she might expect e'er long she must fall like the
leaves to the earth; therefore she resolved, in regard she had always
been a kind friend to young men and maids, that she would leave a fair
testimony of her love before she left the world; since her painful
study and strict observation had made a large improvement in her stock
of knowledge, she would not have it buried in the grave with her, but
leave it to posterity, for the benefit of young men and maids, whereby
they may learn to understand their good and bad fortunes, and by the
direction of this book, be furnished with many secret rarities never
published to the world.

Accordingly the next day she wrote letters of invitation to the young
men and maids to repair to her house on St. Luke's day; the maids she
appointed to come in the morning to be first instructed, for these two
reasons as she herself was a woman, she would teach the young women
first, lest the batchelors should be too severe on them; the second was
it being Horn Fair day, many of the batchelors would be employed in the
morning, in handing old citizens young wives to the fair, and in the
afternoon they might be at liberty. This was the determination of Old
Mother Bunch.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]




THE SECOND PART OF

MOTHER BUNCH, ETC.


Now against the day appointed, Mother Bunch deck'd her house, and
getting up very early that morning she placed herself in the closet
where her treasure lay. Now the first that entered the room was Margery
Loveman, a maltster's maid, who with a low curtsey said, Good morrow,
Mother Bunch, I am come to partake of your bounty; for I hear you have
a second time opened your Golden Closet of Curiosities.—Yes, daughter,
said she, so I have, and thou shalt partake of it.—Here are infallible
rules and directions in all manner of love intrigues, that you may
know what sort of man you'll marry, and whether he will prove loving
or no. Dear mother these are the things I would know; for believe me
out of all my sweethearts I'd willingly chuse the best; 'tis true I
have 150_l._ the noise of which has brought many sweethearts, and I'd
willingly know which come for pure love and which for the lucre of the
money. Daughter, said she, here is an experiment, if you will but try
it, will make a full discovery of the reality of their love. Let a
report be spread, that you are robbed of all you have in the world; if,
after this, there is any one continues his love as before, you may be
sure he is faithful. But be sure keep this counsel to yourself, that
the mystery may not be discovered. I'll take care of that, dear mother,
quoth Margery, and I heartily thank you for this kind advice, so good
morrow, for I must needs go.

    Good morrow, daughter, she reply'd,
    Young men are false and must be try'd.

She was no sooner gone, but in came Mrs. Susan, a young Sempstress
from Salisbury, who entered wringing of her hands. How now, quoth she,
what's the matter daughter, you take on at this rate? Alas! Mother
Bunch, quoth Susan, my, my, my——. What's the matter? Why my sorrow is
more than I am able to bear; for mother, dear Frank, the fiddler and I
are fallen out and he swears he will not have me. Come, daughter, quoth
she, be of good cheer, I'll put you in a way to see whether he is angry
or no. She that's afraid of the grass must never piss in a meadow. One
swallow never makes a summer, nor one woodcock a winter. Let your angry
lover alone for a season, and he'll come to himself again; for I know
fond love is a puny darling, and wants humouring; therefore let him
alone, in time he'll forget his anger, and return to thee again, if
he has any principle of good nature or loyal love in him, and if not,
you had better be without him, than for your lifetime to be ty'd to a
sour apple-tree. Remember the old proverb, Set thy stool in the sun,
if a knave goes an honest man may come. I hope you have not play'd the
wanton with him. No, mother, but he fain would have play'd a lesson on
my lute the other market day only, but I had more grace than to let
him. Say'st thou so, daughter? Why I tell thee, he did it to try thee,
and since he finds that you withstood him, he will never leave you.
Well, dear mother, she said, your words are comfortable to me, and when
I find the good effects, I'll return and give you an account; and now
mother, farewel.

    Right happy daughter may you be,
    In guarding your virginity.

The next which entered the room was Margaret, the miller's maid, who
after making a low curtsey and giving Mother Bunch the time of the day,
desired to know for what reason she sent her a letter. Why quoth the
old woman, to the end that I might reveal to you some secrets, that are
both relative and conducive to love, which I have never yet discovered
to the world. But mother, said Margaret, I am a meer stranger to love,
for I never knew what it meant. That may be, quoth she, yet you know
not how soon you may receive the arrows of Cupid, and then you'll
be glad of some of my advice; for I know the best of you desires to
lie with a man; and I'll appeal to you if you would not be glad of a
husband. Mother, quoth Margaret, you come too close to the matter,
and if I may speak my mind, I'd willingly embrace such a one; for
although housekeeping is chargeable, yet marriage is honourable. Thou
say'st well daughter, quoth Mother Bunch, and if thou hast a mind to
see the man, follow my directions and you shall not fail. Let me see,
this is St. Luke's Day, which I have found by my long experience to
be fitter for this purpose than St. Agnes's and the ingredients more
excellent. Take Marygold flowers, a sprig of Marjoram, Thyme, and a
little Wormwood; dry them before a fire, rub them to powder, then sift
it thro' a fine piece of lawn; simmer these, with a small quantity of
virgin honey, in white wine vinegar, over a slow fire; with this anoint
your stomach, breast and lips, when lying down and repeat these words
thrice:

    St. Luke, St. Luke, be kind to me,
    In dreams let me my true love see.

This said, hasten to sleep, and in the soft slumbers of your nights
repose, the very man whom you shall marry will appear before you,
walking to and fro, near your bedside, very plain and visible to be
seen. You shall perfectly behold his visage, stature and deportment and
if he be one that will prove a loving husband, he will approach you
with a smile; which if he does, do not seem to be overfond or peevish,
but receive the same with a mild and modest blush. But if he be one,
who after marriage will forsake thy bed to wander off after strange
women, he will offer to be rude and uncivil with thee. These are
rarities I have never before divulged, and will prove of advantage. I
must thank you for all your love, quoth Margaret, and so farewel, good
Mother Bunch. Good-bye, dear daughter, she immediately reply'd,

    Let Joy and Pleasure crown your Days,
    And a kind Man your Fortune Raise.

Next came in Kate the clothworker's daughter, Doll the dairymaid, Joan,
Bridget, Nancy, Phillis, etc. in all about forty together, who almost
filled the room, each of them crying, Dear Mother Bunch, remember me, O
mother, remember me, etc. that they made the old woman deaf with their
great noise. My dear daughters, quoth the old woman, set you down and
be quiet, and you shall partake of my benediction. Now daughters, I'll
sit in the midst of you and read you a lecture; meaning to give you an
account of some extraordinary curiosities here in my closet newly broke
open; declaring that the things which are profitable for one maid are
so for another.

First, if any one here desires to know the name of the man whom they
shall marry, let her who desires this seek for a green peascod, in
which there are full nine peas; which done either write or cause to be
written on a small slip of paper these words:

    Come in my dear and do not fear.

Which writing you must enclose within the aforesaid peascod, and lay
it under the door. Then mind the next person who comes in, for you'll
certainly marry one of the same name.

Secondly, she who desires to be satisfied whether she shall enjoy the
man desired or no; Let her take two lemon peels in the morning, and
wear them all day under her armpits; then at night let her rub the four
posts of the bed with them; which done in your sleep he will seem to
come and present you with a couple of lemons, but if not, there is no
hope.

Thirdly, she who desires to know to what manner of fortune she shall be
married, if a gentleman, a tradesman, or a traveller. The experiment is
this, take a walnut, a hazlenut, and a nutmeg, grate them and mix them
up with butter and sugar into pills, which must be taken at lying down,
and then if her fortune be to marry a gentleman, her sleep will be
filled with golden dreams, if a tradesman, odd noises and tumults, if a
traveller, then will thunder and lightning disturb her.

Fourthly, St. Agnes's day I have not yet blotted out of my book; but I
have found a more exact way of trial than before. You need not abstain
from kisses, nor be forced to keep fast for the glance of a lover in
the night. If you can but rise to be at the church-door between the
hours of twelve and one in the morning; and then put the forefinger of
your right hand into the keyhole, and then repeat the following words
thrice,

    O sweet St. Agnes now draw near,
    And with my true love strait appear.

Then will he presently approach with a smiling countenance.

Fifthly, my daughters, know ye the 14th of February is Valentine's day,
at which time the fowls of the air begin to couple; and the young men
and maids are for chusing their mates. Now that you may speed, take
this approved direction: Take five Bay leaves, lay one under every
corner of your pillow, and the fifth in the middle; then lying down to
rest, repeat these lines seven times over:

    Sweet Guardian Angel let me have
    What I most earnestly do crave
    A Valentine endow'd with love,
    That will both kind and constant prove.

Then to your content you'll either have the Valentine you desire, or
one more excellent.

Sixthly, the old experiment of the Midsummer smock found out in a
much better method than before, by my sublime and painful study in
philosophy. And now, my daughters, said she, it is thus: Let seven of
you go together on Midsummer Eve, just at sunset, into a silent grove,
and gather every one of you a sprig of red sage, and return into a
private room, with a stool in the middle; each one having a clean
smock, turned wrong side outwards, hanging on a line cross the room,
and let every one lay their sprig of red sage in a clean bason of rose
water, set on the stool; which done place yourselves on a row, and
continue till twelve or one, saying nothing, be it what you will you
see; for after midnight each one's sweetheart or husband that shall
be, will take each maids sprig out of the rose water, and sprinkle his
love's shift; and those who are so unfortunate, as never to be married,
their sprigs will not be moved, but in lieu of that, sobs and sighs
will be heard. This has been often try'd and it never failed of its
effects.

    These things I have found out of late,
    To make young lovers fortunate.

And now, my dear daughters, I have but a word or two more to say at the
present, and that by way of caution.

In the twelvemonths I find about thirty-one days unlucky; so as you
tender your own happiness, take care you marry not on those days, and
for your better instruction I will set down those days for you.

In January are four, the 7th, 14th, 17th, and 18th.

In February two, the 5th and 10th.

In March three, the 9th, 19th, and 21st.

In April two, the 6th and 7th.

In May two, the 4th and 13th.

In June three, the 7th, 9th, and 10th.

In July two, the 6th and 7th.

In August two, the 11th and 16th.

In September three, the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th.

In October three, the 4th, 14th, and 15th.

In November two, the 15th and 24th.

In December three, the 6th, 8th, and 9th.

    Observe my Rules of all these days,
    And then you will your Fortunes raise.

This said, old Mother Bunch gave them a cup of her cordial water, and
so dismiss'd them, the young Damsels returning her hearty thanks for
her motherly advice.

After Mother Bunch had dined, the young men came, as Tom the Miller,
Ralph the Thatcher, and Robin the Ploughman, with a great many of other
trades and callings, whom Mother Bunch invited to sit down, that so she
might the better deliver her salutary counsel to them.

And first, she begins with Tom the Miller, saying, Ah, Tom, thou art
a sad fellow, there's not a maid comes to the mill but you will be
bobbing under their aprons; but take my word for it, if you don't leave
off, you'll be ruined. What woman will have such a one? She may justly
conclude, you will be caterwauling still. You know what I mean Tom.
Yes, yes, mother, but sure you don't take me for such a one. Yes Tom,
I do, and I am but seldom mistaken; 'tis you millers that fill the
country with crack'd maidenheads, that the honest husbandman already
finds the ground till'd up. But farewell, I will have nothing to do
with such as you.

Then turning to Ralph the Thatcher, she said, I find you are desirous
of a wife, and your ambition is such, she must be rich, young and
beautiful. So you can't be content with honest Joan, to whom you
promis'd marriage, but must change her for a finikin madam; but I can
tell you she won't stand picking of straws with you; her fair face
will find her many friends in a corner; and so you may chance to be a
cuckold, and indeed but justly served in your kind; and therefore I
pray you to return to your old lover, for she is an honest girl, and
therefore far more fit for you than such a butterfly as you have lately
followed.

Then she stretched forth her hand to Robin the Plowman, saying, Thou
art an honest fellow, and good luck will attend thee; I don't mean bags
of gold nor heaps of silver, but thou shalt have an industrious wife,
one who will be willing to labour, a true and faithful yokemate, who
will be a chearful partner in thy weal or woe, to support thee under
thy troubles, as the Poet has it,

    The Burden may be borne by two, with care,
    Which is, perhaps, too much for one to bear.

Honest Robin this is thy fortune, and as thou art a downright man, I'm
glad to find it so.

    Thus Mother Bunch went round the room
    And told them what would be their doom
    If they her daughters did betray,
    And steal their maidenheads away,
    Each should be punished with a bride,
    By whom they should be hornify'd,
    But if they were right honest men
    They should have happy fortunes then.

    This said she did her blessing give,
    In love and happiness to live;
    Which when they did the same receive,
    Of Mother Bunch they took their leave,
    Declaring she had told them more
    Than e'er they understood before.


FINIS.

[Illustration]


       *       *       *       *       *

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES.

  1. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical
      errors.
  2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.